


like a bad biography

by poisedwalrus



Series: not only plan but also believe [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Field Trip, Gen, all the names are changed to protect the innocent, breath deep my dear, is peter parker a prostitute a superhero a compulsive liar or all three? the acadec team buzzes in, peter's life is hard, the macaroni fire incident, you mess with one of us you mess with all of us
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 11:57:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20741831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisedwalrus/pseuds/poisedwalrus
Summary: “Wait.” Peter looks up. “What?”“We’re going to Avengers Compound,” Ned repeats dutifully.Yeah.That’s what Peter thought he said.“Nope.” Peter drops his book onto the table. It shudders. “I’m not going. I’m not— I’m gonna call in sick. I’m gonna call indead.”In which Midtown’s Academic Decathlon team inadvertently ends Spider-Man’s whole career.(Set between “hungry for a poke” and “to win this fight, side by side”)





	like a bad biography

**Author's Note:**

> guys. guys help. guys i wrote too much sad and now i don't remember how to be funny help me

Peter’s personal apocalypse starts on a Wednesday.

It’s lunch time, and Peter, Ned, and MJ are recovering from a morning of classes by doing some light academic discussion when Ned raises his eyebrows conspiratorially and asks, “So. What do you think we’re doing on the field trip tomorrow?”

“What we always do,” Peter answers, nonplussed. “Walk around and write essays.”

Midtown Tech is an unabashed nerd school, and as the nerdiest nerd group in the nerd school, the AcaDec team is required to go on monthly enrichment trips, so that they learn how to apply their bottomless pool of ultra-specific trivia to critical real-world problems.

That’s what Mr. Harrington likes to say, at least. Peter suspects that he’s actually using these trips to get paid for moping about his wife. 

It’s pretty sad. Peter’s tried to help, but it turns out that there are some things even Spider-Man can’t fix.

“I highly doubt that they’re just going to let us wander around this time,” MJ says. She sets down her printout of Wittig’s “One Is Not Born a Woman” and taps on Peter’s lunch tray.

“Why not?” Peter asks. He reaches out blindly and snags a grape.

“Didn’t you read the permission slip?” Ned nudges Peter in the side, reminding him to actually put the grape in his mouth.

“Of course I didn’t read it,” Peter says. “I don’t read.”

“You’re reading a book on Mary Somerville literally right now,” Ned says.

“She was the queen of science in the nineteenth century!” Peter protests. “The word scientist was invented for her! This isn’t reading— It’s worship!”

“Alright, calm your nerd boner,” MJ picks her essay back up. “So, you don’t know where we’re going tomorrow.”

Peter shakes his head, turning back to his book.

“Is it a more interesting museum than usual?” he asks.

MJ shrugs.

“Uh, yeah,” Ned replies. “I would say that. We’re going to Avengers Compound, dude.”

“Oh, cool,” Peter flips the page.

Then his brain catches up with the conversation.

“Wait.” He looks up. “What?”

“We’re going to Avengers Compound,” Ned repeats dutifully.

Yeah.

That’s what Peter thought he said.

“Nope.” Peter drops his book onto the table. It shudders. “I’m not going. I’m not— I’m gonna call in sick. I’m gonna call in  _ dead.” _

“I thought you’d be excited,” Ned says. “I mean, you go there a ton, so maybe you can show off your—“

“No!” Peter yelps. “No, I will not be showing off— anything. Not that I do anything show-off-able at the compound,” he adds, glancing at MJ, who’s looking at them with narrowed eyes. “I’m just a normal intern. I get coffee. And bake. And do other totally normal corporate minion stuff.”

MJ frowns.

Peter laughs nervously and then grabs Ned, turning him away from the lunch table so that they can do a huddle.

“Ned,” Peter hisses, “this could get really bad. What if everyone finds out about— my thing?”

“Your thing?”

“The thing!”

“You have a lot of things, man!” Ned says. “No offense, Peter, but I don’t get why you’re so freaked out about this. The worst thing that could happen is just that everyone thinks you’re selling a—”

Peter claps a hand over Ned’s mouth.

He leans toward him and says, “Don’t. Talk. About that.”

Under the pressure of Peter’s best death glare, Ned nods.

Good. Peter’s been working on that death glare for three weeks now.

Peter lets go of Ned and pats his shoulder in apology.

“Look,” Peter says, “I just don’t want everyone to find out what I do at the compound, okay? If it gets out that I’m—” Peter gestures vaguely at his chest. “— I don’t wanna get Mr. Stark or anyone else in trouble.”

Ned opens his mouth, ready to reply. Then his eyes widen.

“Trouble, huh.”

Peter jerks backwards as MJ slides into the seat beside him. He doesn’t even know when she started making her way over to this side of the table. 

Jeez. Maybe MJ should be the secret superhero in this relationship.

She already has the intimidating stare down, too.

“Okay.” Peter raises his hands. “Uh, I know that sounded bad, but—“

“You know, if Cindy was here, she’d be throwing a shit fit right now.” MJ crosses her arms.

“Yeah,” Peter says, “but Cindy isn’t here, so it’s not a problem.” 

Ned makes a face. MJ’s expression doesn’t even twitch. 

“It’s not a problem, right?” Peter asks.

A pause.

“It’s the twenty-first century, loser,” MJ says. She lifts up her phone, turning the screen to Peter, so he can see the audio recording that’s already ready to be sent to a certain group chat. “Big Sister is watching you.”

Peter stares. 

Then he lunges for MJ’s phone.

“No, no, no, no,  _ no—“ _

MJ stands and lifts her phone up over her head, so Peter has the choice of either springing up and revealing his secret superhero identity or climbing her like a tree to get it.

He doesn’t have time to do either.

MJ’s phone makes a swooshing noise. The recording sends.

Peter freezes.

The read receipts start showing up immediately.

And after a few seconds, the words “Cindy is typing...” pop up on screen, too.

Peter holds his breath.

“Cindy is typing…”

“Cindy is typing…”

Suddenly, the words fade away.

Peter blinks.

Has he been saved?

“Huh,” MJ says. “Maybe Mr. Dell got her.”

“That’s rough,” Ned comments.

Peter collapses back onto the bench as MJ goes back to her side of the table. 

He takes a deep breath, counts to three, and then sighs.

Phew.

That was scary.

Peter reaches for his book, ready to spend the last five minutes of lunch learning about the first official scientist in peace, when—

“Ah!”

Peter jolts as Ned’s phone starts vibrating aggressively.

“Whoa, sorry, man.” Ned picks his phone up off the table. “Oh, wow,” he says, swiping himself in.

On the other side of the table, MJ is staring at her phone, eyes darting around at what Peter knows is her maximum reading speed. 

After a moment, she looks up. She raises both eyebrows at Peter.

And then she smiles.

“Oh, shit,” Peter says.

——

This is an emergency. 

The AcaDec team is going to visit Avengers Compound, which means they might bump into Mr. Stark and more of Peter’s vigilante buddies, which means that Peter’s classmates will only be two leaps of logic away from figuring out Peter’s secret double life, and two leaps of logic is too close for a team of gifted kids who once thought that Peter was prostituting himself to the New York superhero community.

Actually, they might still think that.

What if they tell Mr. Stark that they still think that?

Holy shit.

Peter shudders.

Correction: This is a crisis.

So, who’s Peter gonna call?

“Hi, Mrs. Potts,” Peter whispers. He’s lying on one of the rafters in the gym, hoping that Sally and Abe don’t remember to look up. “Uh, do you have a minute?”

“Of course, Peter!” Mrs. Potts says, even though Peter can hear the telltale sound of talking and then a sudden lack of talking that means she’s just stepped out of a meeting. Mrs. Potts is so nice. Peter really needs to get on developing the photos from her wedding. “In fact, I was going to call you today. You left some street clothes in the compound last Sunday. Do you want me to—“

“Sorry, Mrs. Potts,” Peter interrupts. He can hear MJ coming down the hallway now, too, which means he needs to speed this up if he doesn’t want to get murdered for skiving AcaDec. “Sorry, I— I kind of have an urgent question.”

“Is something wrong?” Mrs. Potts asks. She sounds worried.

“No,” Peter replies quickly. “Everything’s fine, but, uh— Is Mr. Stark around?”

“He’s in the lab right now, but I can call him up—“

“Don’t! I mean— It’s okay. Just— Was he the one who planned Midtown Tech’s field trip to the compound?”

“Field trip?” Mrs. Potts falls quiet for two seconds, and Peter can literally hear his heart rate pick up. “Oh, I’d almost forgotten that we’d scheduled tours of the exhibition room. Is your school visiting soon?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, relieved. “Yeah, tomorrow. But it’s just the Decathlon team, so I was wondering— Like, did Mr. Stark have anything to do with it?”

Is this payback for the surprise friend therapy Peter ambushed him with last week? That was a labor of love. And Peter brought donuts, so there shouldn’t be any hard feelings.

“No, though I believe that he’s aware of the school trips,” Mrs. Potts answers. Peter breathes a sigh of relief. “And I know Tony didn’t show up for Brooklyn Visions Academy last week, but I’m sure he’d make an exception for—“

“No!” Peter yelps. “Nope, that’s— It’s totally fine, Mrs. Potts. I’d actually prefer it if Mr. Stark didn’t find out about me going. Ever.”

A short pause.

Then— “He wouldn’t embarrass you, Peter,” Mrs. Potts says gently. “Not on purpose,” she adds.

“Oh, uh, it’s not that.” Peter doesn’t think Mr. Stark could ever actually embarrass him. He’s  _ Tony Stark. _ If anything, Peter should be worried about embarrassing him. “I just— I don’t wanna give my classmates any reason to suspect— stuff, you know?”

Peter will literally die if anyone gets hurt just because they know who Spider-Man is. But, even if nobody targets Peter’s people for Spider-Man, others who just want to help could also cause trouble, if Peter’s secret identity gets out. 

Peter’s not oblivious. He knows how this can look to people who don’t know him.

What if someone goes after Mr. Stark and Mrs. Potts for letting a fifteen year old fight fires while decked out in Stark tech? What if someone criticizes the Avengers and Defenders for being complicit with the activities of an underage superhero? Peter does not need to be the subject of more superhero legislation.

What if someone uses Spider-Man to question May’s custody rights?

Peter can’t even consider that possibility.

So, yeah. It’s not that Peter doesn’t trust his classmates. This way is just safer. For everyone.

“I see,” Mrs. Potts says, sounding thoughtful. “Well, you don’t have to worry, Peter. You know how the compound is. I highly doubt that you and your friends will see anything out of the ordinary.”

——

“Dude, I am so sorry,” Ned says.

Peter presses his forehead to the glass window, hoping the chill will help his headache.

“It’s fine, Ned,” he replies. “I know everyone’s just trying to help.”

After calling Mrs. Potts, Peter had been feeling a bit better about the whole field trip thing, until MJ caught him sneaking out of the gym and promptly dragged him to AcaDec practice, where he’d alternately been told off for trying to skip and for trying to hide from the team. The only good thing is that he was able to avoid any and all conversations about what he actually does at Avengers Compound by resolutely ignoring everyone and everything. 

That doesn’t mean Peter’s not stressed out about it.

So, Ned is currently blocking Peter in at the back of the bus so that no one bothers him while he spends the two-hour drive upstate contemplating his life choices. Ned’s a good friend.

“You think you’ll be okay?” Ned asks, looking concerned.

“Yeah,” Peter sighs. “The exhibition room’s pretty cut off from the, uh, more personal part of the compound, so I don’t think we’ll bump into anyone who might reveal— anything.”

“Dang,” Ned says. “I really wanted to meet Black Widow. I mean—“ he amends once he sees Peter giving him a look. “That’s great! I’d totally hate for everyone to discover how awesome your life is.”

Peter smacks his head against the glass.

“Ned,” he says tiredly.

“Hey, don’t look at me! At least I’m not the one who’s egging the team on.”

“That’s different,” Peter points out. “You know what could happen if this gets out. MJ just likes to watch the world burn.”

“Just your world, actually,” MJ says, as she pokes her head out from behind the seat in front of them.

Peter grabs onto Ned instinctively.

“Holy sh— How long have you been sitting there?!”

“This entire time.” 

MJ surveys them casually. 

Peter tries his best not to feel like a spider being eyed by a cat.

“You know,” she begins.

Then the bus jolts to a halt, jerking all three of them forward.

“Oh, look,” Peter says quickly. “We’re here! Time to go—“

Peter shoves Ned out of the seat and into the aisle, hustling him off the bus before even Mr. Harrington can get off.

Through the little bus window, MJ stares after them, face blank.

Peter’s never been so terrified in his life.

——

“Parker!” Flash calls as he strolls towards the compound. “How baked did you have to get your boss before he let you into this place?”

“Still not baking pot brownies,” Peter says. “And still not a prostitute,” he adds, when he spots Betty side-eyeing him.

Peter sighs again. Ned pats him on the shoulder.

Together, they enter Avengers Compound.

The exhibition room is a tall, windowless chamber papered with the entire history of the Avengers, starting with Captain America and Mr. Stark’s dad. There’s a model of the Vita-Ray Chamber and old photos of the Howling Commandos. There are memorials for the victims of the Chitauri Invasion and Ultron. There are glass cases dedicated to each of the Avengers, filled with display replicas of their equipment and explanations of their accolades. 

Someday, Peter swears to himself, Spider-Man will have a place here, too.

Since the exhibition room is kinda cut off from the rest of the building, Peter’s pretty sure it wasn’t part of the original design, which means it was completed after the whole Sokovia Accords thing went down. Before Peter had finished his Stealth-Adopt-Mr. Stark plan, he’d wondered if Mr. Stark had built this room as a reminder or as a punishment. 

Peter slows as he walks past the slab of flat black marble that’s filled with the names of everyone they lost in Sokovia. 

He doesn’t wonder anymore.

“Everyone, gather around!” Mr. Harrington calls.

Peter leaves the memorial behind, so Mr. Harrington can explain what they’re doing today.

And as Peter predicted, they’re writing essays. Mr. Harrington tells them to pair up and use their wide knowledge of historical trivia to write a speculative analysis on the emergence of superheroes. They have to cite at least three sources from the exhibition room and, no, they are not allowed to play with the interactive holographic displays until they’re done.

“Bummer,” Sally says.

Peter immediately makes eye contact with Ned. Ned’s not a big history buff, but he is the only one who doesn’t want to ask Peter about his internship, supposed weed brownies, or possible hooking, so it’s really a no-brainer. If Peter wants to get away with his secret superhero double life, he’s gonna have to avoid everyone but Ned from now until the end of time. Or until the team gets distracted by something else.

Maybe Spider-Man does need to be a party trick.

But— “Ned,” Betty says, stepping between him and Peter. “Do you have a partner?”

“Um,” Ned says. His face is kinda red. “Um, no…?”

Peter glares.

“Great!” Betty takes Ned’s hand and tugs him towards Black Widow’s display. Ned turns his head and sends Peter an apologetic look.

Peter rolls his eyes.

Traitor.

Then someone taps him on the shoulder.

“Peter!” Cindy says, smiling with all her teeth. “Do you wanna work together?”

Peter tenses.

He has a feeling that “No” is not an acceptable answer in this situation.

Fortunately, Cindy does not pin Peter into a corner and try to verbally flay all his secrets out of him. Instead, they do actually outline an essay on the development of superheroes in America.

It’s kinda fun. Cindy makes a lot of insightful points about the influence of war and nationalism on the popularization of heroes, and Peter almost forgets that he’s acting out a real-life Hannah Montana movie with all his friends. 

Everything’s going great.

Anyway, Peter and Cindy are having a nice conversation about whether the reemergence of superhero culture at the beginning of the twenty-first century was a reflexive response to the slowly surfacing moral ambiguity of leading governmental bodies or the natural consequence of a cultural emphasis on individualism and empowerment when Peter’s phone lets out a blood-curdling screech.

“Ah—“ Cindy yelps.

Abe jumps and accidentally elbows Flash in the nose.

“Fuck!”

“What the—“

“Sorry, guys!” Peter waves his phone in the air. “My bad.”

“Mute your phone, Peter!”

“Sorry, Mr. Harrington!”

Flash smacks Abe in the arm.

“Your ringtone is a screaming goat,” MJ says flatly. She’s been studying the Chitauri Invasion memorial near Peter and Cindy while writing intensely in her notebook. Peter’s sure that there’ll be a scathing anonymous op-ed in the school paper this month.

Peter shrugs. “Yeah, sometimes.” Like when someone activates the superhero phone tree.

And after Peter unlocks his phone, he discovers that someone has.

Mr. Rand has just texted him:

_ whats going on with the avengers lol _

As Peter stares down at his phone, confused, another text arrives. This one is a screenshot of a phone tree message from Hawkeye, which says:

_ GDJDHJDKEGEBD BIG LOUNGE KITCHEN HELP ME _

Oh, man.

That doesn’t sound good.

Peter shoves his phone back into his pocket and stands up.

Cindy grabs onto the sleeve of his sweater. 

“Where are you going?” she asks.

“Uh, bathroom,” Peter points at the door leading to the rest of the compound. “I need to— Yeah.”

“Right after you got a text on your phone?”

“Um. Yes?”

Cindy narrows her eyes.

Is Peter sweating? He feels like he’s sweating.

“You do know that you’re a really bad liar, right?” Cindy says.

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” Peter replies. “But, I really do have to go. Right now.”

“Go?” Mr. Harrington says, walking over. “Peter, I can’t just let you wander around on your own, even if you do intern here. I won’t lose a student on a field trip. Not again,” he adds under his breath.

Peter’s gonna pretend he didn’t hear that.

“Sorry, Mr. Harrington, but this is kind of an emergency.” Peter pries his sweater out of Cindy’s grip and tries to dodge around Mr. Harrington.

“I told you to go before we got on the bus,” Mr. Harrington says sternly. He lays a hand onto Peter’s shoulder, holding him in place.

“Uh, yeah.” Peter tightens his grip on the straps of his backpack. Maybe a duck and roll wouldn’t look too Spider-Man-y? “But I gotta—“

“What are you hiding, Peter?” Cindy asks.

“Nothing!” Peter says quickly. “I’m not hiding anything! I just— I—“

Peter glances at Ned, who’s thankfully not so distracted by Betty that he can’t tell when his best friend needs help.

“Uh, uh—“ Ned looks between him, Cindy, and Mr. Harrington. Then he says, way too loudly, “Uh, Peter— Peter’s on his period!”

The room falls silent.

“Ah,” Mr. Harrington says. He lets go of Peter’s shoulder.

Peter’s gonna lose his fucking mind.

“Ned!” he hisses.

At the same time, Cindy goes, “Oh, sorry! Do you need a pad?” She starts rustling in her backpack.

“N-No!” Peter says quickly. “Thanks, Cindy, but—“

Something comes flying at the back of Peter’s head. He twists around and catches it instinctively.

Peter looks down at what he’s holding.

Then he has to use all of his spider-enhanced strength to keep from throwing himself through one of the compound’s reinforced walls.

“Peter prefers tampons,” MJ says, nodding to the one in his hand. “Better for physical activity. Right?” She smiles.

Peter’s dead.

“Oh,” Cindy nods. “That makes sense.”

“Right,” Peter says weakly, backing towards the door. “Right, so— I’m just gonna—“ He whips around and speed-walks out of the exhibition room as quickly as he can while still appearing like a normal human.

“I’ve got ginger candies, too!” Cindy calls after him. “They’re great for cramps!”

Peter walks faster.

“My mom swears by them! Don’t be a stranger, Peter!”

Peter starts running.

Screw his secret identity. He’s already doomed anyway.

——

“—wasn’t me, it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me, it wasn’t—“

“Mr. Hawkeye!” Peter bursts into the big lounge, slapping his web shooters on.

“Oh,” Hawkeye hides one of his hands behind his back and waves awkwardly with the other. “Hey, Peter. How are you?”

Peter webs his backpack to the wall and rushes over.

“Are you okay, Mr. Hawkeye?” he asks, scanning Hawkeye for injuries. “I got the phone tree message, and it sounded really bad!”

Hawkeye pauses, cocking his head to one side. He’s dressed in civvies, and he doesn’t look hurt, but his face is ashy.

Peter scans the lounge. Everything seems okay, though something smells kinda weird…

“Did I send that to the phone tree?” Hawkeye says. “I thought I was texting Nat.”

Oh.

Peter exhales and steps out of his fighting stance.

“Holy shit, man,” he says. “I thought this was a real actual emergency. I skipped out on my class for this.”

“Well,” Hawkeye stares up at the ceiling, “if it makes you feel any better, the toaster’s on fire, so it is kind of an emergency.”

Peter blinks.

“What?”

“My kids keep saying that they want to try oven-baked macaroni and cheese,” Hawkeye explains as Peter sprints for the kitchen. “So I thought I’d try it out here because, hey, the compound has a bunch of labs, right? But—“

“This is a kitchen!”

“—couldn’t get the oven to work, so I improvised, and now the cabinets are on fire, too, so maybe we should—“

“Oh my God.”

But, it’s fine. It’s all good.

Hawkeye is an Avenger, and Peter’s done fires before, so they can fix this.

Yeah. They’ve totally got this.

So, the entire right half of Peter’s body is on fire, and there’s an arrow buried in the smoke detector, and it turns out that web fluid 2.83 isn’t completely fireproof, so Peter’s gonna have to work on that this weekend, and Mr. Stark’s definitely gonna have to replace that toaster now, and then the whole kitchen is suddenly buried in a layer of potassium bicarbonate.

Peter manages to close his mouth in time, but judging by the choking noises, Hawkeye does not.

After three seconds, Peter cracks his eyes open.

Black Widow is pointing a fire extinguisher at him. She looks at Hawkeye, then at the corpse of the toaster, then back at Hawkeye, then at Peter. 

Peter can see the judgement in her eyes.

Black Widow tosses the fire extinguisher at their feet and folds her arms.

“Explain,” she says.

Peter and Hawkeye start talking at the same time.

“I got a message from the phone tree—“

“—oven-baked mac and cheese—“

“—then Hawkeye shot the electrical socket, so I had to—“

“—’s not good under pressure. Why hasn’t Tony—“

“—Anyway, the point is—“

“It’s not my fault!” They finish together.

Black Widow looks unmoved.

Peter widens his eyes, doing his best to pull off a kicked puppy face. It seems to work, because Black Widow shakes her head, walks over, and punches Hawkeye in the side of the head.

“Hey!”

Then Black Widow scans Peter from head to toe and says, “You’re alright?”

“Yeah,” Peter nods repeatedly. He can feel the burns healing up already. “Yeah, I’m fine. Really,” he adds, when Black Widow raises an eyebrow. “I was only a little bit on fire at the very end, and you put me out right away, so thanks, Miss Black Widow.” 

Peter brushes off some of the foam, so Black Widow can see that he’s not really hurt. But, instead of nodding and moving onto Hawkeye like Peter expects her to do, Black Widow keeps looking at him. 

After three seconds, her lips twitch.

“Nice boxers,” Black Widow says.

Hm?

Peter looks down.

Then he squeaks and tries to cover his— everything.

The Spider-Man suit is basically fireproof because Mr. Stark put everything in the suit, and Peter heals pretty quickly from burns either way, but his normal clothes are definitely not as fire resistant as he is.

This has never been as evident as it is right now.

Peter doesn’t want to be a Victorian maiden about this, but he’s showing a lot of thigh. Even the Iron Man boxers that Black Widow commented on are basically only hanging on by a thread.

“Oh my God,” Peter breathes. “How am I supposed to go back to my field trip?”

“Field trip?” Black Widow asks.

“I’m here with my Decathlon team,” Peter explains. “We’re in the exhibition room— I skipped out because Hawkeye texted the phone tree, and now I can’t go back because he burnt my clothes off.”

“The toaster burnt your clothes off,” Hawkeye corrects.

“I’ll figure something out,” Black Widow says, disappearing out of the lounge.

“Hurry, please, Miss Black Widow,” Peter calls after her. “My friends think that— Well, they’re kinda suspicious of my internship, and— and I think they might actually come looking for me if I don’t go back soon.”

God, please don’t let anyone come looking for him. Especially not Cindy.

Black Widow doesn’t give an affirmative, but Peter trusts her. She’s Black Widow. She’ll help him.

Hawkeye is a whole different story. “Aren’t hole-y pants fashionable?” he asks, crouching down to poke at what’s left of the toaster.

“My pants don’t have holes,” Peter says slowly. “My pants are missing an  _ entire pant leg.” _

“It’s like a qipao,” Hawkeye shrugs. “You can pull it off, kid. Have more confidence in yourself.”

Peter throws his hands in the air and goes to pull his backpack off the wall. It’s hard, considering how he also has to hold his pants together to keep from mooning one of his childhood heroes.

“Can’t you wear the Spider-Man suit?” Hawkeye asks, leaning against the kitchen island and watching Peter struggle. “It’ll look like leggings if you just cover up the top.”

Peter pauses. That’s actually not a bad idea.

He tells Hawkeye this.

Hawkeye rolls his eyes. “I may not be a genius like Tony, but I do have some common sense.”

“You just tried to cook macaroni and cheese in a toaster,” Peter points out.

“That wasn’t a bad idea. That was an experiment.”

Peter shakes his head. Some superheroes just can’t be reasoned with.

Anyway, Peter’s just pulled on the footies of the Spider-Man suit when he starts hearing footsteps. Lots of them.

He freezes.

“Hey, Clint, I got your paperwork worked out. Don’t worry, I’ve kept it all under— Kid, where’d you come from?”

Oh, great.

It’s Mr. Stark. 

Peter doesn’t know if he should feel relieved or mortified.

“Is it friend therapy time already?” Mr. Stark asks, walking over to the couch Peter’s changing behind. “I thought we were gonna do that on— What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” Peter says quickly, pulling his sweater down and trying to cover up any remaining burns or foam or ash or skin that normally sees less sun than it’s seeing now. “I mean— I’m fine. Just— don’t come over here.”

“If that was meant to make me feel better,” Mr. Stark says, “it didn’t. Wait, are you skipping school right now?”

“No, I’m here for—“

“Peter!” Betty rushes into the lounge. “Thank God—“ She pokes her head back out into the hallway and yells, “Guys, I found him! He’s here!”

“No, wait—“ Peter yelps.

But, it’s too late.

The whole team spills into the lounge.

“Wha—“

“Peter, we’ve been looking everywhere. Mr. Harrington is so mad— Well, it’s more like he’s having a breakdown, but you know what I mean—“

“Ohmigod, it’s Hawkeye. I thought he retired! This is so cool—“

“Tony Stark! I am such a big fan. I actually applied for—”

“Where are your pants, Peter?!”

Cindy’s voice cuts through the noise. Everyone quiets down as they finally notice the clothing that Peter’s not wearing. 

“Uh,” Peter says, mind blank. “ _ Uh.” _

A long pause. 

The team exchanges glances.

“Oh my God,” Cindy says softly. “I can’t believe we were right.”

And then everyone starts talking over one another. Ned is waving his arms around, repeating denials so quickly that even Peter can’t make out what he’s saying anymore. Cindy is alternately pointing at Mr. Stark and Hawkeye, loudly accusing them of things that Flash is vehemently denying at higher and higher pitches. Abe stands behind Cindy, interjecting occasionally and looking kinda sick. Betty is talking Sally down while MJ presses a finger over her phone camera, so none of Peter’s humiliation becomes public record.

It’s a mess.

But, at least they haven’t connected the red and blue fabric around Peter’s ankles to Spider-Man.

Not that this isn’t terrible already.

Peter covers his face with his hands and wonders if it’s too late to throw himself out a window.

“Okay, okay, stop.” Mr. Stark says, holding up a hand. The team quiets down, though Cindy is still glaring. “No offense, kids, but we have a house rule that says only one teenager is allowed in here at a time. So, Pete—” Mr. Stark turns to Peter. “—what in the world is—“

And of course, because Peter’s life is garbage, that’s when Black Widow walks into the room, holding a pair of Captain America boxers.

She cuts through Peter’s classmates, who part for her like the Red Sea, and tosses the boxers over to Peter. 

Peter catches them instinctively.

Oh, God.

Even Ned is gaping now.

“Pepper said these are yours,” Black Widow explains, before she moves to stand by Hawkeye.

Abe chokes.

Sally gapes.

And because Mr. Stark has the worst case of superhero overtalking Peter’s ever seen, he chooses now to add, “Really, Pete? Cap? I can’t believe you’re cheating on me with Stars-and-Stripes, kid.”

“Oh my God,” Ned whispers.

Flash sounds like he’s literally dying.

Peter closes his eyes.

This is it. This is the end.

“So,” Mr. Stark continues, “now is someone gonna explain why the entire population of Munchkinland just appeared in my lounge? Or why the kid doesn’t have his—“

“I’m calling the police,” Cindy interrupts.

“Don’t!” Peter stumbles forward, still tangled up in the Spider-Man suit. He quickly kicks it under the couch. “Nothing is happening here!”

“We literally just caught you with your pants down!” Cindy says.

“No, you didn’t,” Peter insists. “No, you didn’t. This is all just— a very advanced hologram. Stark tech. Confidential stuff.“

Everyone ignores him.

Betty straightens up, readjusting her headband, and steps up to Mr. Stark. Peter can practically see her going into morning announcement mode. 

“Dr. Stark,” she says, “we’ve just seen incontrovertible evidence that you’ve been taking advantage of a high school boy. Do you have anything to say for yourself before I contact the authorities?”

Mr. Stark blinks.

“Wait, hold on. What the f— udge are you talking about?”

“Peter Parker, age fifteen, a sophomore at Midtown School of Science and Technology,” Betty recites. She’s practiced this. Peter can tell. “Despite claiming to be a Stark Industries intern and being in intimate contact with supers who associate with SI, he has no proof of employment, and SI famously doesn’t even accept high school interns, so we at the Midtown Academic Decathlon team have been very curious about what Peter actually does for you.”

Betty’s face is so calm that Peter almost doesn’t notice that she’s wringing her hands behind her back. Peter’s gonna nominate her for student council president if he doesn’t die of humiliation first.

Even Black Widow looks slightly approving.

Mr. Stark squints. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying?”

“If you think we’re implying that you’re pimping out our friend to your team of superheroes,” Abe says, crossing his arms, “then yeah.”

Betty nods in agreement.

Hawkeye sputters. Or maybe he’s just muffling laughter into Black Widow’s shoulder. Peter doesn’t know. He’s lost the ability to think about anything but how his life is spontaneously combusting before his very eyes.

Peter doesn’t even know how he’s still standing right now. This much embarrassment can’t not be fatal.

Mr. Stark pauses, letting all of that just sink in.

Then, he says, “Okay, what the f—“

“We have photographic evidence,” Cindy interjects, staring at Mr. Stark stonily. “And Peter’s been called out of school during tenth period so many times that I can’t even verify if—“

“Really?” Mr. Stark says, eyeing Peter. “Tenth period? If I’m not mistaken, that’s band practice—“

“—And he’s been skipping AcaDec and those circles under his eyes get darker every day, and— and what you’re doing is illegal and unhealthy, so if you can’t maintain a professional working relationship with your interns, then you shouldn’t have them at all,” Cindy finishes. Her face is kinda red now, but her voice is clear, and she still hasn’t looked away from Mr. Stark.

Peter would be proud, if he wasn’t dying of mortification.

Mr. Stark glances at Peter, clearly asking,  _ What the fuck is going on here? _

Peter doesn’t respond. He wishes he knew.

A short pause.

Mr. Stark clears his throat.

“Well,” he says, “this has been horrifying. I don’t know where you got the idea that I’ve been— pimping out your classmate, but I assure you that you’ve jumped to conclusions. Terrible, horrible, inaccurate conclusions.”

“Then what does Peter do for his internship?” Betty challenges.

“That’s classified.” Mr. Stark folds his arms.

“Then make it unclassified.” Betty folds her arms back. “Or else.”

Mr. Stark blinks, looking bemused. Peter wonders if this is the first time he’s been threatened by a high school girl.

Some people are just lucky like that.

The stand off lasts for fifteen seconds.

Then— “You know,” Mr. Stark says, backing towards an exit, “I have a feeling that no matter what I say here, this isn’t going to get cleared up, so I’m going to follow my CEO’s advice and just— excuse myself from this interaction. Kid—“ Mr. Stark points at Peter and then at the AcaDec team. “— make sure to clear this up.”

“Wha—“ Peter doesn’t even have pants on right now. “How am I supposed to—“

“You got this one, right?” Mr. Stark unlocks the door to the compound’s living quarters. “You got this. I believe in you, average corporate minion.”

And then Mr. Stark just walks out.

Betrayal.

He even locks the door behind himself.

Just for that, Peter’s gonna tell on him to Mrs. Potts.

Peter turns around, hoping that Black Widow or Hawkeye can rescue him from this nightmare.

But, they’ve disappeared, too.

Wow.

Peter can’t believe this.

He’s gonna tell on everyone to Mrs. Potts.

“Peter?” Abe asks slowly. “What’s really happening here?”

Well, Peter’s gonna tell on everyone to Mrs. Potts if he survives the next thirty seconds.

Peter pulls his sweater down and takes a deep breath, getting ready to ask everyone to kindly leave the room so he can put some pants on before they interrogate him, when he spots MJ staring at his feet. At his backpack at his feet. At the Spider-Man mask draped on his backpack at his feet. 

MJ looks up at Peter, eyes wide.

Shit.

Peter kicks his backpack behind himself. “I can explain,” he says quickly.

And then he hesitates. 

Uh.

What exactly is he gonna explain here?

MJ still looks stunned. This is the most Peter’s ever seen her emote.

That’s probably not a good sign.

MJ slowly opens her mouth.

Then—

“Everyone owes me five bucks!” Flash crows. He points at Peter and says, “I knew that Parker was a Spider-Man stripper!”

A pause.

Peter drops his boxers.

What the fuck?

What the  _ fuck? _

“Holy shit,” Sally whispers. “It all makes so much sense now.”

And then everyone starts yelling, all at once.

“Oh my fucking God,” Peter says.

His life is officially over.

**Author's Note:**

> On the drawing board: an aftermath
> 
> I know I've said this for, like, the last four fics, but you guys will really, really, really have to wait this time. My midterm season starts this week, which means I'll be taking midterms until I have to take finals. Or until I die. Whichever.
> 
> But, I'll still be around! Kind of. I'll be lurking here, definitely. If you guys come up with any short prompts, I might get something published, too, but that's a definite maybe. Still, if y'all have any more questions or just want to chat, I'll be here and on [tumblr](https://h-l-w.tumblr.com/).
> 
> I'll see you guys on the other side, and as always, thanks for reading <3


End file.
